


pining and desperately waiting

by thewinterose



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: (but only like standard fruits basket angst), F/M, Fluff and Angst, Makeover, Mutual Pining, Pining, Unresolved Romantic Tension, a little bit of ust but only because they're teenagers who are in love, like what he normally does lol, this is mostly just kyo cursing and pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 09:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18602068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterose/pseuds/thewinterose
Summary: There’s a slight pressure a few inches from his hip. Her knee. He can feel the soft skin of it on the edge of his pinky finger and he fights the urge to move it closer, just a little, so that he could know for sure, but he doesn’t let himself. He won’t. He’s not allowed.“Tohru,” he breathes. It comes out like a sigh. A prayer. And her eyes snap up to meet his.-Or: Kyo loses a bet. Pining ensues.





	pining and desperately waiting

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely self-indulgent oh my god. Title taken from Dress by Taylor Swift

He honestly doesn’t even know how he gets caught up in this shit.

The day starts off the way it normally does; with him, Tohru, Tohru’s friends- it’s safe to say they’re also his friends now, but Kyo will be damned the day he ever admits that- and his cousins.

They’re eating lunch and talking about whatever the hell they happened to have been talking about at the time, when Yuki walks up, his gaggle of student council friends strangely missing. Kyo’s not ashamed to say that he’s been happy with Yuki being occupied by them so much. It means that he gets angry less, and thus says dumb shit less.

Although- again- he’ll never admit that.

“Hi, Yuki-kun!” Tohru greets cheerfully from her place beside him and Momiji.

She was wearing pink bows in her hair today, which Kyo thought complimented the natural rosiness of her cheeks and made her look really-

But he digresses.

Yuki smiles pleasantly and sits down in front of her, somehow making even the act of just sitting in grass look effortlessly graceful.

He could feel the muscles in his hands twitch, his fingers wanting to curl in on themselves. It’s almost amazing, really, how angry Yuki could get him without doing anything.

“Hi, Honda-san,” he greets back. Haru stands up from his spot next to Momiji and plops down next to Yuki. His voice is calm when he asks, “didn’t you have a meeting today?”

Yuki sighs, suddenly looking irritated, and glares a hole into the dying school yard grass. “We did,” he says, his voice sounding strained. “But Toudou-san got into trouble today for escalating a fight between two girls and the meeting was specifically about the school’s treasury. It’s been rescheduled for tomorrow.”

Kyo can hear Uotani laugh from off to the side. “How the hell does she get into trouble for a fight she wasn’t apart of?” she asks, and Hanajima makes some weird humming sound in agreement.

Yuki’s face somehow falls even more and he ignores the hand Haru drops onto his hair.

“The girls were… admirers of mine,” he admits, sounding tired. “Toudou-san made the suggestion that the only girl I was interested in talking to was her. The girls did not take it well.”

Haru makes a sympathetic sound and softly pats Yuki’s hair. “You shouldn’t get so stressed,” he murmurs. “It’s not good for you.”

Yuki makes a face and shoves his hand away. He then reaches up and combs through it with his fingers, smoothing down the strands that Haru made stick out.

Kyo almost wants to laugh at the scene. That damn rat. He really was a girl.

From beside him, Tohru also makes a sympathetic sound, and reaches across to gently pat Yuki’s stupid hand.

“I’m sorry that your meeting got postponed, but maybe we can cheer you up! How about we play a game?” she suggests, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Kyo grins softly at the childish gesture, thinking it so fitting that she would recommend playing a game to make someone else happy, despite knowing how intense simple card games could get in this group. Tohru was really so mindless sometimes, but never in a way that was stupid, and never in a way that annoyed him.

Uotani jumps up at Tohru’s words. “Yes! We can play rich man, poor man!” she shouts.

Kyo also jumps up, his eyes turning fierce. “Hell no! I’m not playing with a damn cheat like you!”

She meets him head on, her gaze lighting up with the promise of a challenge. “I’m not a cheat! I just don’t play like a brain dead two year old!”

Anger bubbles in his gut like molten lava, his competitiveness spreading it like a disease through his body, but it makes him feel good. It makes him feel alive.

“You really wanna go right now?” he starts, stepping towards her, and Uotani’s smirk turns into a cutting smile. Her anger is etched into her face as clearly as it is in his.

Everyone around them simply looks bored, no doubt used to their scuffles- he even sees Yuki roll his eyes- but Tohru keeps glancing around like a scared puppy.

“Wait!” she says. She reaches out and softly wraps her hand around his shin. He can feel the warmth of her palm through his pant leg.

Kyo abruptly turns on her, a mindless retort stuck in his throat, when he’s struck by the image of her before him; her brown eyes wide and beseeching, her lips curling around a plea.

He immediately deflates and lowers his arms, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Uotani do the same. He plops back down next to her and lowers his head, feeling strangely ashamed. Like how he used to feel whenever he got into trouble with Shishou.

Tohru looks between them cautiously, no doubt looking for any underlying hints of anger, and then continues when she seems satisfied.

“How about we play this like we did last time? The loser has to do something.”

Momiji laughs and settles in closer to her. “Like a punishment?” he asks, to which she immediately begins shaking her head.

“No, no!” she starts, waving her hands in front of her like she’s signaling off something evil. “Nothing that extreme!” she says nervously.

But her answer already is lost in the sea of the thoughts of the people around her, and Momiji’s amused question is accepted like its gospel.

“That sounds interesting,” Hanajima says, and everyone around her nods thoughtfully.

“But what should the loser do?” Uotani asks. She reaches up and strokes her chin with her hand. Kyo is quickly getting pissed off again.

“So what? We’re just gonna play this dumbass game now?” he gripes. He folds his arms tightly across his chest, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tohru deflate at his comment, and abruptly he feels like shit again.

“You’re only saying that it’s a dumbass game because _you’re_ a dumbass,” Uotani snarks, and like magic, he’s incensed again.

“Shut up!” he shouts, moving to stand up again, almost shoving his forehead into hers as he invades her personal space. Uotani’s eyes are lighting up with challenge again when Yuki sighs harshly from off to his side and yanks him back down by the back of his shirt.

Kyo turns his glare onto him and feels his feverish anger grow into a boiling rage.

How dare he touch him! This prissy son of a bitch who’s gotten everything he’s ever wanted. He hates him. He _hates_ him.

Kyo jerks himself away from his grip and rubs the back of his neck like it’s been infected. “Don’t touch me, you girly bastard!” he shouts.

Yuki just sighs and rolls his eyes again, but settles back into his spot next to Haru, looking as if he couldn’t be bothered with entertaining Kyo’s anger right now.

It almost makes him go off again, but Momiji jumps up and waves his arms up and down, looking like he seconds away from declaring eureka.

“Kyo just gave me an idea!” he states, pointing at him. “What if the loser has to walk around wearing makeup!”

Uotani looks intrigued. “Like clown makeup?” she asks.

Momiji smirks gleefully and shakes his head, bouncing in place like a damned idiot. “Nope!” he says. “They have to look pretty!”

She frowns and shakes her head. “That’s lame. What if Tohru loses? Then it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

_No_ , Kyo doesn’t allow himself to entertain the thought of how Tohru would look with makeup on.

_Not that she really needs it_ , he thinks, staring at her out of the corner of his eye. She’s braiding the ends of her hair. She has nice hair.

Momiji just laughs again and shakes his head. “No, it wouldn’t be. Besides we all know Kyo’s gonna lose anyway.”

Kyo snaps out of his Tohru-induced trance and shakes his fist at him. “Fuck you, bunny boy, I’m not losing!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He loses horribly.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I said I’m not doing it!” he shouts, marching out of his room, Haru following at his heels.

“I’m disappointed in you, Kyo,” he states dispassionately. “I thought Kazuma-sensei taught you to honor your word.”

He turns on his cousin abruptly, feeling defensive over him bringing his Shishou into it.

“Don’t bring him into something that he has nothing to do with,” he demands, crossing his arms.

Haru just sighs sadly and reaches up to grasp Kyo’s shoulder, looking very much like he’s about to depart some much-needed advice. Kyo just eyes the hand at his shoulder with disdain.

“You gave your word, Kyo.”

“I gave jack shit! You guys just decided that I would!”

“And yet you played the game knowing what the punishment would be.”

Well.

He’s got him there.

Kyo’s not going to admit that though.

He’s about to tell Haru what he could do with that supposed word of his, when Tohru comes bounding down the stairs, Yuki and Momiji at her heels.

Kyo’s eyes follow her unconsciously, and he’s almost too busy staring at her to notice the item she’s holding.

He breathes in sharply and steps back like she’s coming at him with a knife.

It’s a pink, sparkly makeup bag. He can see the shiny top of a tube of lipstick jutting out of it.

He would be angrier if she didn’t look so damned earnest and determined, like she was preparing herself to give him the best damn makeover she could.

“Please don’t,” he hears himself say.

She just grins at him; that same stupid, goofy grin that leaves him unable to deny her anything.

“It’ll be fun, Kyo-kun!” she promises. “And wearing makeup is fun!”

He snorts. “Yeah, if you’re a girl.”

Haru flicks the back of his head. “A lot of men wear makeup, Kyo. Don’t be ignorant.”

“Fuck you,” he snaps back. He doesn’t want to admit that he feels slightly embarrassed by the admonishment.

Tohru just ignores the exchange and walks right up to him, boldly taking his hand and directing him towards her room. He protests the entire time, but he doesn’t try to slow her down or take his hand away. From behind him, he can hear his cousins follow them.

Tohru walks into her room and leads Kyo to her bed. He sits down slowly and pretends that he doesn’t think of the implications.

Momiji, Yuki, and Haru all walk into the room moments later, and the irritation he feels from seeing them helps quell the nervousness that’s churning in his belly. He can see Tohru rummage around in the makeup bag and pick out a few products that he can tell she’s thinking of using on him, and just like that, he’s pissed again.

Momiji hops onto the bed and turns onto his stomach, resting his head in his palms. “I didn’t know you wore makeup, Tohru,” he says, swinging his feet back and forth.

Kyo bats at them and Tohru turns around, a small smile on her face. She grabs her products and heads back over to Kyo, setting her stuff down next to him.

“I only do on special occasions, but mom loves makeup! She used to like to do makeovers with me when I was little and I learned a lot of stuff from her!” she states cheerfully, and Momiji oohs and aahs like this is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.

“Okay, Kyo-kun! Are you ready?” she asks, smiling.

“No.”

“Well don’t worry! I promise to make you look pretty!”

“I’m not concerned about looking pretty!”

Yuki slaps the back of his head. “Don’t yell at Honda-san.”

Kyo’s about a second from launching himself at the bastard, when Tohru’s hand falls onto his arm, calming him. “Actually, Yuki-kun, I was wondering if it could just be me and Kyo-kun in here? I feel like he would be more comfortable if people weren’t watching.”

Yuki nods in understanding and Haru and Momiji follow him out of the room, with the latter dragging his feet a bit. The door echoes as it closes behind him, and Kyo’s nervousness returns tenfold.

He distracts himself by fisting his hands into the rough fabric of his jeans and pulling on them. He doesn’t want to think about the fact that he and Tohru are alone in her room, and he definitely doesn’t want to think about her giving him a fucking makeover.

He really should work more on his competitiveness. The fact that Uotani could drag him into a game simply by pissing him off is shameful.

“Alright, Kyo-kun, are you ready?” she asks. She leans down to pick up some glass bottle with a beige liquid inside and a brush. He can feel himself stiffen at the image of the two objects in her small hands, knowing the humiliation that’s awaiting him after this.

Tohru notices his expression and giggles softly. His gaze meets hers and he’s preparing himself to snap at her, but the happy look on her face stops him in place. When she smiles like that, he forgets that he’s supposed to hate this.

She drops a hand onto his shoulder and pats it briefly, her other hand shaking the bottle. “Don’t worry, Kyo-kun. I’m not going to go too heavy with the makeup.” She raises the bottle and holds it next to his cheek. “I’m not sure this is even your shade anyway.”

“What is that?”

“Its foundation,” she answers. She pops off the top and pumps a little bit onto the back of her hand. She dips a finger in and then swipes the product on the side of his chin. It’s so stupid. _It’s_ _so stupid_. But his fingers shake when she pulls her hand away, like he’s aching to bring her closer.

She steps back and appraises him, tilting her head. She shakes it. “Nope. It’s definitely too light but we’ll have to make due, won’t we?”

“No,” he answers shortly, like he wasn’t just imagining placing her hand back onto his cheek.

Tohru laughs like he’s said something funny, and dips her finger into the foundation again. She dots random spots on his face, and Kyo bets he looks like some fucking measles patient.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting a little bit so that you won’t look so pale.”

“Whatever.”

It’s silent for a few moments as she gets to work on his face, using the brush to make circular motions on the spots she marked. He hates to admit it, but it’s relaxing.

The bristles on the brush are soft and the way she drags it across his nose and cheeks is gentle, like the whispering touches of butterfly wings. But most of all, it’s the focused expression on her face- her drawn in brows, her narrowed eyes, her bottom lip captured between her white teeth- that captivates him.

He wants to look away, but he discovers that he can’t; his eyes find a way back to her, and he drinks in her features like an artist and sketches them out in his mind. He wants to remember this for when-

He wants to remember.

He’s almost completely dazed when she finishes up and pulls away, and he hates, hates, _hates_ the disappointment that churns in his gut.

“Okay onto the next step!” She leans down and picks up a tiny tube of beige liquid.

“More foundation?” he asks skeptically. He thought that she wanted to go light. Something about his complexion or whatever.

“Concealer,” she corrects. “It’s to hide dark circles. I won’t put too much though so don’t worry.”

“Thank you for being so considerate,” he says dryly, ignoring the happiness that wells up in his chest when Tohru giggles.

“You’re welcome,” she says and curtseys, and _of course_ she fucking curtseys.

She twists open the tube and dabs little circles under his eyes with the wand. She grabs a smaller brush and rubs at the marks she made. Unfortunately, this step is quick, so she doesn’t get all focused again.

She reaches down again and pulls out a pink compact thing. “Blush!”

“Yay.”

“Don’t be so grumpy, Kyo-kun. You lost fair and square.”

“Uotani’s a damn cheat and so is that bastard Yuki,” he grumbles, fisting her pink bed sheets.

Tohru just rolls her eyes good-naturedly before leaning down to grab a different brush. She opens the compact and dips the brush into it. She taps off the end of it and holds it to his cheeks.

She dusts the pink powder across his face, starting at his cheekbones. That focused look returns to her eyes and he allows himself to sink into the admiration he’s going to feel whether he allows himself to or not.

She puts the compact down and reaches up towards his face. He can feel his breath hitch in his chest and he tries not to read into the fact that her hand hesitates in touching him.

_Like she’s nervous,_ he thinks.

But that’s ridiculous. Tohru isn’t nervous. It’s not like she has a reason to be.

“Kyo-kun.” Her voice is soft. Light. Like the barely-there sunlight that’s streaming in through her perpetually open windows. It falls against her pillowcase and halos her hair like a golden crown. Like an angel.

“Yeah?” he asks, forcing himself to focus on her voice again.

“I need to move your face from side to side to put on the blush. Can I-“

He interrupts her.

“Yeah. Yeah. Do whatever you need to do, I guess.

She sighs softly and nods. The warmth of her breath fans across his chin, and he’s a deep pit of aching want. And it’s everything. He wants to touch her and cradle her pink cheeks and kiss-

But most of all, he just wants her.

_Tohru._

He fists the sheets again and forces his eyes shut, not letting himself focus on anything. Want anything. He doesn’t have the right.

She softly grabs his chin and turns his face to the left, gently dusting the brush across his cheeks. His hands tremble and he can’t do a _damn thing_.

Tohru pulls away hurriedly and Kyo’s convinced he’s imagining the rosy hue that highlights her cheekbones.

“Okay, next thing!” she declares cheerfully. Almost overtly so.

He doesn’t ask.

She grabs a flat, rectangular looking thing and flips open the top. An assortment of bright and nude colored circles are lined together in two rows. He knows what this is.

“Eye shadow,” he says, pointing at it.

Tohru grins at him and nods. “Good guess. We’re going in with nude colors so that it’s not too much for you,” she explains, grabbing another, way smaller brush and dipping it into one of the light brown circles.

“Okay, close your eyes, Kyo-kun,” she orders and he listens, shutting his eyes. He can feel her hand at his chin again, tilting his face up.

She dusts the powder onto his eyelids methodically, and although he can’t see her, he knows she has that look back on her face.

It’s almost pathetic, how smitten he is with the idea that she could be so singularly focused on him, even if it’s for something as ridiculous as putting makeup on him because he lost a bet.

After a few moments, she’s done and she puts down the eye shadow box thing.

She pulls up a black, tube and he also knows what this is: mascara.

“Fuck no, I’m not wearing that,” he scoffs, turning his face away. “I don’t want to look like a raccoon.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tohru pout.

“Kyo-kun, it’s not considered a makeover unless I put the mascara on. Besides, you’ll look so pretty!” she gushes.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t care about looking pretty!” he shouts, slamming his hands down on the bed.

“You gave your word, Kyo-kun,” she admonishes lightly.

“ _No_ , I didn’t.”

Tohru probably senses she’s not going to get anywhere by lecturing him, because she folds her hands together and brings them against her chest.

“Please,” she begs softly. “Please, Kyo-kun.”

He already can feel the hot blush- and not the makeup kind- heat up his face.

Damnit! Why does she have to say it like that! It makes her sound-

Weird.

It makes her sound weird.

“Whatever. Just do it,” he grumbles, ignoring her when she cheers in triumph.

“I promise I won’t mess up!”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay, but still.”

Her hand is on his chin again as she turns his face forward. She unscrews the top and leans closer to peer intently at his eyes, the furrow between her brows pronounced.

“Don’t blink and look up,” she says, and even though he rolls his eyes, he listens and does as she says.

He’s not going to lie. It’s fucking nerve-wracking to have Tohru come at his eyes with something that could poke them out, but he supposes that’s what the advice was for, so he tries his best to maintain his stupid ass position.

It takes a couple minutes and his eyes are fucking burning for being open so long, but she finally finishes and puts the mascara away.

“How the hell do you wear that thing?” he asks, eyeing it like its poison.

Tohru’s already rummaging around for something else when she laughs at his question. “It gets easier after a while,” she answers, but Kyo honestly can’t imagine ever being comfortable with wearing this shit. It makes his eyelashes feel sticky and kind of crunchy, and he can’t wait until he can scrub it off.

“Are we almost done,” he asks tiredly.

“Yup! Just one more step.” She whips out a shiny gold tube. “Lipstick.”

Kyo rolls his eyes. At the very least, it’s not completely awful. He knew this step was coming. He hopes it’s not red.

Tohru pops off the top and rolls the lipstick out. It’s a dark, pinkish kind of color. Again, at least it’s not red. He’s not sure he would’ve let her put red lipstick on him.

She leans in closer and tilts his chin up again. She angles the lipstick over his mouth, as if not sure where to begin, before pulling away with a sigh.

“Kyo-kun, I can’t put it on with your lips resting like that. Try pursing them.”

“You want me to what?”

“Like a kiss.”

It’s funny how an innocent statement from her could completely demolish his entire thought process in less than a minute.

However, he’s somehow able to pull himself together and he wordlessly follows her command. Tohru nods in satisfaction and leans in again and starts applying.

He doesn’t know if it’s because of how close she is or how his lips are right now, but somehow it’s all too much and not enough at all, and he closes his eyes because he’s not sure he can handle her face being so close to his right now and not wanting more than he’s allowed.

He used to think that he was a creature of misfortune. That he would suck up all of the bad energy in the world and somehow have it turned on only him, torturing him endlessly.

But ever since he met Tohru, he thinks he’s becoming a creature of something else now. Of want. Of desire. Of things he can’t allow himself to ever have because of who he is and what the world has decided that he deserves.

And it’s not Tohru.

It never can be.

It takes him a couple seconds to realize that Tohru has stopped applying the lipstick, so he opens his eyes, thinking that she’s done. That she’s on the other side of the room, grabbing whatever else she needs.

But she’s not. She’s still there.

She’s inches away from him, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her eyes drawn and glazed over on his mouth.

There’s a slight pressure a few inches from his hip. Her knee. He can feel the soft skin of it on the edge of his pinky finger and he fights the urge to move it closer, just a little, so that he could know for sure, but he doesn’t let himself. He won’t. He’s not allowed.

“Tohru,” he breathes. It comes out like a sigh. A prayer. And her eyes snap up to meet his.

He wants and wants and wants. But in her eyes, he can see a little something of himself: that fierce, fervent selfishness that demands that she tear down her inhibitions, and the feeble strength of the restraint that keeps her from doing so.

“Kyo-kun,” she says back. She breathes out his name too.

He swears that she’s leaning closer, imperceptibly so, and he can feel his hand inching up, wanting to curl itself around her shoulder, her hair, anything and everything that’s her.

He’s almost there. He’s almost there and-

“Tohru! Are you done?” Momiji calls from outside her door and every knock that he makes is another punch that Kyo’s going to give him when he gets out.

Kyo slams his hand down in frustration and Tohru gasps and wrenches herself away from him, her knee leaving an indent next to his hip.

“U-um, yes! Come in, Momiji-kun!” she calls out cheerfully. Overly so.

He opens the door and pops his head inside, gasping loudly when he looks at Kyo.

“Wow, Tohru! You did so well!” he praises. “I almost wish that I had lost so that you could have given _me_ a makeover.”

Tohru giggles and grabs her bag to shove her makeup inside it. “You can go next if you want,” she offers happily, smiling at the compliment. Momiji’s eyes light up and he waltzes over to her, taking her hand and rubbing his cheek affectionately against hers.

“Let’s go take Kyo downstairs now,” he says.

Tohru nods and gestures at Kyo to get up, which he does slowly, like the very act of it is painful.

Momiji grabs a mirror from the makeup bag and shoves it in Kyo’s face. “Look how pretty you are!”

Kyo growls at him, but does actually look at himself. And yeah, he does look paler, but not overly so. His eyelashes are dark and long, and his lips look fuller and pink. On a personal level, he completely hates it. He feels like an idiot. But he does have to admit that Tohru did a pretty good job.

He stuffs the mirror back into the bag and marches down the stairs, prepared to have everyone look at him, get their stupid laughs out, and then march back upstairs and pretend this day never happened.

However, as he gets down, the bright flash of a camera greets him, and when his vision clears, a passive looking Hatori, and a gleeful looking Shigure and Ayame stand in front of him.

His determination withers away into murderous anger and he whirls around on Momiji. He grabs his ear and squeezes it hard, like an irate grandmother.

“You little fucker! I’m gonna kill you!” he roars, his free hand clenching.

Momiji wails loudly and dramatically, waving his arms about. “Tohru! Kyo’s hurting me!”

“Good! I’ll kill you!”

“Kyo-chan, please calm down, anger doesn’t suit you,” Shigure simpers, giggling behind his hand.

“I think he looks pretty,” Ayame remarks. Hatori just hums dispassionately.

Then they turn to Tohru, who’s still standing on the stair steps, her hand on the railing.

“You did a very good job, Honda-kun,” Hatori praises kindly, and Tohru blushes prettily behind her curtain of brown hair.

“Oh, I did okay. Kyo-kun just looks pretty because he’s Kyo-kun.”

Kyo could feel himself blush at her compliment, but he’s still too focused on torturing Momiji that he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Hatori sighs and reaches around to pull a crying Momiji away. Kyo lets him, but only because he doesn’t want to be around any of these idiots any longer.

“Well, if you’re all done laughing or whatever, I’m going upstairs to wash this shit off,” he declares, marching up the stairs.

He moves around Tohru, placing his hand at the small of her back in order to avoid bumping into her. His hand lingers for a moment. He pretends that it doesn’t.

As he walks up, he can feel her gaze burning at his shoulders. Her eyes must be soft with the same longing that well up like a sweet ache in his own.

He ignores that too.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing for Fruits Basket, but I've been a fan of the series for years and the reboot inspired me. I hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
